


Gold and Silver

by LadyLaviniya



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Drabble Sequence, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gardens & Gardening, Healthy Relationships, I have too many feelings and not enough coping mechanisms, Jealousy, Love, Magic, Mentors, Mild Sexual Content, No Lesbians Die, POV Lesbian Character, Past Relationship(s), Princes & Princesses, Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), Tenderness, The Enchanted Forest (Once Upon a Time), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, this is what happens when I delve into the Kristin rabbit hole after not doing that for so long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22530733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLaviniya/pseuds/LadyLaviniya
Summary: Remember, your emotions give you power.They give you control.And they will give you freedom.No one, be they peasant or king or god, will ever fuck with you again.When given the choice of either Prince James or the dragon, Princess Abigail chose the dragon.
Relationships: Abigail | Kathryn Nolan & Briar Rose (Once Upon a Time), Abigail | Kathryn Nolan & Evil Queen | Regina Mills, Evil Queen | Regina Mills & Maleficent, Maleficent/Abigail | Kathryn Nolan
Kudos: 2





	Gold and Silver

**Author's Note:**

> I have a bad habit of just diving into new fics with just an aesthetic, a vague vibe, and two words in my pocket. So the fact that I spent at least three weeks on this and I'm still not done? That's a feat.
> 
> But I think what’s more so is that no one’s done this ship yet. I mean... everything else exists so why doesn’t this?
> 
> **I know ao3 says 3405 but Google Docs said 3.4K and I’m too lazy to figure out where I fucked up so just pretend it's perfectly round okay? sshhhh**
> 
> Happy Valentine’s Day!

Gold for silver, love for life.

Princess Abigail traded one fortune for another.

If only her father saw it that way.

“Abigail. You know the stories. They don’t end well.”

She did know, but they never made sense to her. Why did dragons kidnap princesses? What did they do with them? They certainly didn’t kill them, otherwise there would be no stories to tell.

“We both know you made the wrong decision. You’re too proud to admit it, even to me—I understand. But this...” he grabbed her hand. “You don’t have to go with her.”

Abigail sighed. “Yes, I do.”

* * *

“I do.”

“And do you, Sylvia von Brandt, take Kathryn Carlisle, to—”

“ _Yes_.”

Their friends and family chuckled at her impatience and utter shamelessness, chief among them Kathryn Carlisle herself. Seeing her bride laugh brought a smile to Sylvia’s face.

Better laughing than crying, right?

She cleared her throat.

“I mean...” she began again, once their giggles began to die, “I do.”

The mayor was the only one who kept a straight face, probably annoyed she was interrupted. When the room was quiet once more, she continued her little speech before taking a deep breath.

“You may kiss the bride.”

* * *

Maleficent was prompt.

They heard her circling the castle before they ever saw her. And when she appeared before them, human, Abigail had every intention to greet her standing if not for her father forcing her to remain seated.

He stood from his throne and took a cautious step towards their guest, arm held protectively in front of his daughter.

“I offer you all my gold. My land, my kingdom, take it all. But you cannot take my child.”

“Your gold is worth _nothing_ ,” said Maleficent, undeterred. She took a bold step towards him. “But your daughter? _She_ chose _me_.”

* * *

While Kathryn got started on the house’s interior, Sylvia got started on her garden.

She loved the feeling of soil in her hands, of warm sunlight on her face, and fresh air in her lungs. These were experiences she could never give up.

Growing up in the mountains, it was a lot easier to grow food than it was to wait for her parents to go into town. Neither of them particularly liked people.

One rainy day, she scooped up an earthworm and brought it inside to show Kathryn, who screamed so loud she knocked the lights right out.

Whoops.

* * *

There was something about flying that made her ill.

Abigail enjoyed the sights nonetheless; she never would have known what her kingdom looked like from so high up.

They flew over the lush greenery of the Enchanted Forest, parting through clouds before they actually reached Maleficent’s realm and...

The Forbidden Mountain was completely barren.

Nothing would ever grow here.

Abigail held on tight when Maleficent made to land in front of her castle, all but falling off her back when they touched earth. And try as she might, she couldn’t even stand up.

Wordlessly, Maleficent carried her through the threshold.

* * *

Weekends were paradise in the Carlisle von Brandt home. When the sun was at its warmest and Sylvia found relief in her gardens, Kathryn could usually find it in the kitchen. And because she was looking at law school, she was constantly stressed.

Kathryn loved baking. And Sylvia loved her treats.

But every once in a while, Kathryn would come outside just to watch her tend to her flowers. Something about seeing her in her floppy sun hat.

“I’m just your garden-variety gay, you know?” Sylvia would say, and Kathryn would laugh every time.

”So that’s why you’re so corny!”

* * *

“May I ask you something?”

“Certainly.”

“What do dragons do with princesses they hide away? Stories never say.”

Maleficent chuckled. “What do _you_ suppose I do with them?”

Abigail pursed her lips, setting down her cup. “So long as she is aware of her boundaries, I would like to think you treat her well. I assume she offers you companionship more than anything else. At the absolute worst she becomes your maid.”

“Actually, at the absolute worst, she ends up dead.” Maleficent offered a charming smile. “But that’s not going to be a problem with you, is it?”

“Like hell.”

* * *

“Well, I’ll be _damned_!” Sylvia declared, casually leaning against her front door. “You’re really something, Ms. Mayor.”

Ms. Mayor, or just Regina to friends, laughed politely as she made her way onto the porch. In one arm she had a potted orchid, and hanging off the other was a basket of pastries. She handed the basket to Sylvia, who welcomed her inside.

“I figured I’d set a good example in welcoming you ladies to the neighborhood,” said Regina, peering about the living room and the kitchen. “Is Kathryn home?”

“No. She’s studying with friends.”

“Ah.” Regina smiled. “In that case...”

* * *

“I heard you’ve found yourself another royal wench to play with,” remarked the queen Regina, “Pray, what do you call this one?”

Abigail could almost hear Maleficent’s blood boiling. “Abigail. And if one more person asks why, or even _implies_ I took her, those words will be their last.”

There was a pause.

“Jealousy isn’t your color, Your Majesty.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Mm.”

“With all due respect, Maleficent, when it comes to the lesser of two evils, you are hardly anyone’s first choice.”

“I was yours.”

“Yes. And I don’t like to share.”

Maleficent laughed. “That’s called jealousy, Regina!”

* * *

She retired early that night for the first time in years.

“I feel ill is all,” she said after dinner. It wasn’t exactly a lie.

Kathryn giggled, innocent and kind. “I bet it was Regina’s apple turnovers. We told you to pace yourself, but _no_.”

Sylvia smiled. For her sake. “You were right.”

Just before she could retreat, Kathryn kissed her, slow and warm.

“I’ll check on you soon; I love you.”

“I love you too. So much.”

In the darkness of their bedroom, when she was sure she was alone, Sylvia pulled the duvet over her head.

And wept.

* * *

Some dragons hoarded treasure, others knowledge. And Maleficent’s library was enormous.

There were no labels to indicate what spells could be found in which books. Nor was there anything resembling a system through which Abigail could use to find what she needed in quick fashion.

This would take a long while, but she had plenty of time. So long as she didn’t lose hope.

She left the scrolls alone, singles and bundles alike, and made sure to put each book back in its proper place when she was done with it.

It wouldn’t do her well to rouse Maleficent’s suspicions.

* * *

It wasn’t often Kathryn consented to showering together. She just didn’t like her water half so hot.

Warm, loving hands massaged Sylvia’s back in calm, circular motions, pressing against sore spots about her neck and between her shoulders.

She heaved a sigh.

“I’ve been thinking about quitting my job.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

Kathryn’s soft voice seemed almost cold.

“It’s...” Sylvia swallowed, “I want to see more of the sun.”

“And you have a plan, right?”

“I do.”

She shivered when Kathryn pressed up against her, hugging her waist, chin resting on her shoulder.

“Good. Because Regina’s going to be pissed.”

* * *

_My dearest Prince James,_

~~_You know little of me, and I you._ ~~

~~_I know you were obligated, as I was, to go through with the merger, and I want you to know I do not hold it against_ ~~

_There are plenty of princesses who spend their whole lives hoping for a prince half so noble and kind to marry them. I am confident one will come looking for you soon enough, and when that occurs, I wish you well._

_Letting me go will be of no consequence._ _Rest assured I am perfectly content where I am._

_Sincere regards,_

_Princess Abigail_

* * *

Flower shops were good and anonymous.

And bursting at the seams with beauty and life.

Now more than ever Sylvia bought flowers for Kathryn. Roses, tulips, sunflowers, daffodils, daisies, lilies, hydrangeas, forget-me-nots, lavender, snapdragons, what _ever_ sold that day. The more she brought, the more Kathryn would sigh fondly and remind her their home was a human house, not a greenhouse.

But she was free now. And she was happy.

Someday, when she could face Regina again, she’d go back.

Maybe.

On her way out one evening, there was a terrible storm.

What better flower to bring home than a rhododendron?

* * *

One morning, Abigail awoke to Maleficent standing at the foot of her bed.

“You want to know what _I_ do to princesses who come to my castle?” There was something of a smile trying to make itself known, but Maleficent pushed it away, adding in a commanding tone, “Get up.”

Abigail followed her to the back of the fortress. To a door covered in briar vines and moss.

“What’s in there?”

Maleficent shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Starting today, I’m going to teach you magic. Your final test is to open this door. That _is_ why you came, is it not?”

* * *

The power was out. And so was Kathryn, car and all.

Of course her phone had no service. Fucking fantastic.

Regardless, Sylvia bundled up, lit the hearth, laid out Kathryn’s warmest clothes for when she returned, and prayed it would be soon.

She loved the rumble of a good thunderstorm. It was the cold she could do without.

She was almost asleep on the couch by the time someone pounded on the door.

“It’s about time you came home, you silly—!” But it was not her wife. “Goose...”

Sheriff Swan winced. “Judging by your reaction, Kathryn’s not here, is she?”

* * *

Rose magic. Water magic. Wind magic.

Once she learned the foundations, she could mold it to suit her.

“Remember, your emotions give you power.”

There were some magics Abigail did not enjoy. Mind magic was taxing. As was her occasional foray into black magic.

“They give you control.”

Fire should have easily destroyed the briar vines, but they didn’t.

She wasn’t ready yet. She wasn’t strong enough.

“And they will give you freedom.”

Healer’s magic. That’s what she wanted. What she needed most of all.

“No one, be they peasant or king or god, will ever fuck with you again.”

* * *

**Kathryn Carlisle von Brandt: MISSING!**

. . . [L]ast known whereabouts was at the apartment of schoolteacher Mary Margaret Blanchard, alongside fellow teachers Rosemary Reid and Yuliya Zolotova. Reportedly, the educators were helping Carlisle prep for her LSAT.

According to Sylvia von Brandt, Carlisle’s wife, it was “normal for [them] to leave home at the same time since [Sylvia] switched jobs.” As someone who worked only part-time, however, Carlisle was usually the first one home, a fact later confirmed by neighbors.

“Kathryn _hates_ thunderstorms,” von Brandt stated emphatically, “There really was _no_ better reason for her to have been home that night.”

* * *

Sometimes, instead of feeling exhausted after lessons, Abigail was restless.

And she quickly learned Maleficent wasn’t one to deny a lady the tender service of Venus.

That night, she was gentle, but as it wore on Abigail could sense the dragon lurking about her soul.

Waiting.

When she felt especially bold, the beast was terribly exciting. But when it was her turn to please, Maleficent’s enjoyment of her was tinged with a noticeable melancholy.

“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet... At least, that’s what they say.”

“Did I disappoint you?”

“No,” murmured Maleficent. “You’re just different.”

* * *

“Hello?”

“Don’t hang up.”

“Fuck... Not _now_ , Regina.”

“I wanted to see how you were. And to—”

“Oh! Well, I’m _great_ , you know? Yeah, my wife is missing, her friends have _no_ idea where she could’ve gone in all the ten minutes it takes to drive home, and she still doesn’t know our mayor came onto me. I’m fucking _fine_!”

“Sylv. That kiss was _weeks_ ago, and I apologized. Repeatedly. Anyway, I—”

“And just a wedding, and just a marriage—”

“ _Sylvia_. We found her.”

“...”

“Hello?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Mills.”

“I’m not! Come to the hospital. See for yourself.”

* * *

She warmed herself with hateful thoughts, producing flames so intense she was sure her fingers would melt. But when she finally threw them with all her might and main, they disappeared before ever reaching the door.

“ _Again_. Overthinking actively _hinders_ magic.”

Exhausted, Abigail sighed and conjured a fainting couch. Collapsing onto it, she hardly spared a glance when Maleficent appeared beside her.

“Don’t you ever feel guilty, Maleficent?”

Maleficent stared at her for a long, long time.

“No,” she said, finally. “Guilt is a complete waste of energy.”

Abigail nodded. She could believe that.

“But remorse?”

Maleficent smiled sadly.

“Once.”

* * *

“How is she?” Sylvia asked before she’d even reached Regina’s end of the hall, “Can I see her now?”

Without answering, Regina pulled her into a hug. Held her. Steadied her. Calmed her. And Sylvia let her.

Familiarity was comforting. Even if she wasn’t sure she was ready.

“She’s resting now,” Regina murmured. “Let’s take a second for _you_ , okay?”

So they each took a seat on the bench in the hall, hand in hand, focusing on deep breaths.

“Thank you, Regina...” Sylvia whispered. “Thank you for this.”

“Of course,” nodded Regina. “And Sylv?”

Sylvia looked at her.

“I’m sorry.”

* * *

“And you still love them?”

“As you love yours.”

Abigail rolled over, meeting Maleficent’s absent caresses with a tentative smile.

The time for ulterior motives was over.

For both of them.

“Am I allowed to stay? I may not be Briar Rose, or even Regina, but I do believe I’m capable of holding my own.”

Maleficent blinked as though returning from a trance. Shifting slightly, she propped her head up on her elbow.

“Now, that depends. Do you still feel guilty, dear?”

Abigail bit her lip.

She thought about it.

“No,” she said.

Maleficent smirked.

“Good girl. Now you’re learning.”

* * *

The second Sylvia saw Kathryn lying there, the tears came flooding back.

She approached with the utmost caution, bracing herself in case it was all an elaborate illusion. If she so much as blinked too hard, the bed would be empty, the beeping of machines and murmurs of staff would fade away, and she would be all alone, trapped in a black void of nothingness.

Shakily, she took her wife’s hand in hers, and pressed them together.

Kathryn squeezed back, and her eyes fluttered open.

“Hey...” she managed to get out, smiling softly.

“Hi,” Sylvia choked out. “I’ve missed you...!”

* * *

When Maleficent succumbed to slumber in winter, the entire castle followed suit. Hibernation, she called it.

So Abigail busied herself elseways.

In keeping with her lessons, she found she could read more of what was in the library.

She forsook stairs in favor of willing herself into any which room any time she pleased.

She even went into Maleficent’s treasure chambers for curiosity’s sake.

But perhaps most daring of all, Princess Abigail opened a correspondence with Queen Briar Rose, and after a mere three days, was granted an audience with her in her chambers.

So long as she was careful.

* * *

“Honey, I said I _don’t_ need therapy.”

“And I heard you. You can sit and pet Pongo while _I_ talk.”

With a heavy sigh, Kathryn turned away, arms crossed and leaning back against her seat. Under normal circumstances, this would have sparked some light teasing. But normalcy was fleeting these days.

“Hey,” Sylvia continued, cautiously touching Kathryn’s arm, “I mean it; you don’t have to talk about it now. But until Emma finds your car, you’re not going to sit here, _by yourself_ , for an hour. Just the _thought_ scares me.”

Kathryn exhaled a shaky breath.

“It scares me too.”

* * *

There were no formalities to observe in Maleficent’s castle.

On one hand, it was liberating. But on the other, debilitating. In the little time she had to prepare, Abigail racked her brain to remember her classical training and proper etiquette.

But it was all for naught.

Queen Briar Rose greeted her by way of an attack, barely allowing Abigail enough time to perceive and evade the sharp end of a rose being thrown at her the _instant_ her feet touched the ground.

“Good!” cried the queen, applauding heartily, “You’re quick! Oh, that’s a relief.”

“I should say so...” Abigail muttered.

* * *

Following Kathryn’s return, Sylvia altered her schedule so she only worked weekends. Effective immediately. And if Moe didn’t like that, Dr.Ink was right next door.

After the first sleepless night, she made appointments to see Hopper twice a week. Sometimes thrice.

By the time Friday rolled around, she’d had nearly a whole week to get the ball rolling for her next idea. While Rosemary and hers came to keep Kathryn company, Sylvia went to Storybrooke’s animal shelter.

“Oh, you are going to love your new home!” she cooed to her furry passenger. “Just don’t poop in Mommy’s garden, okay?”

* * *

By the time Abigail was aware Briar Rose had given birth, several months had already passed. Congratulations were discreet; very few were invited to pay homage to the baby. And now, she understood why.

Briar Rose had been blessed with twins.

“How do we know you’re not actually Maleficent disguised?” demanded the little princess Aurora after a rather sharp curtsy.

“Don’t say her _name_!” cried the young prince Day from behind his mother’s skirts.

“Maleficent. Maleficent, Maleficent, _Maleficent_!”

“Stoo-ooopp!!”

Abigail laughed. “You’ll have to ask your mother,” she said, meeting Briar Rose’s gaze, “She’s the only one who can tell.”

* * *

Children made Sylvia nervous.

Or maybe it was just the Reid twins.

She suspected they judged her something fierce, and she couldn’t blame them. After all, she never remembered how to say their names correctly.

Hearing Kathryn laugh from down the block meant everyone was probably outside. The twins were probably playing tag (or whatever it was kids did nowadays), and seeing her with a pet might put her in their good graces for once.

But there were no children milling about the place. Nor was Rosemary conversing with her wife.

It was Regina.

Sylvia breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

Abigail called on Rose most days. Even though Maleficent spent the better part of winter asleep, they didn’t dare try for Rose to return those visits.

Aurora and Day joined them sometimes—usually hiding from Tinker Bell—but not often.

As they exchanged stories of Maleficent, of her ways and habits, Rose would often adorn Abigail’s golden hair with roses from her own garden, as well as wildflowers her children picked. Each one represented one memory, one tender moment she shared with Maleficent in all their yesterdays.

And when the crowns were finished, they would burn them.

But the flowers never died.

* * *

“I can’t believe this—I can’t believe you went and _adopted a dog_ without telling me!”

“You’re right; I’ll be sure to spoil any future surprises from here on out.”

Wiping away the unexpected, albeit excited tears, Kathryn laughed.

Sylvia smiled, running her fingers over Ajax’s curly coat. “He’s not much of a watchdog, but he’s smart, sweet, and, most importantly, calm. I figured he could help with the jitters and keep you company while I’m at work. You know, so you don’t end up stealing Pongo from Archie.”

“He’s perfect,” Kathryn whispered, pulling her into a warm hug, “Thank you.”

* * *

The days Abigail didn’t visit Rose were when Her Majesty came calling. They always had tea in the fortress’s library; Regina was nicer there.

“She’s resting well, I trust?”

“I suppose so.”

“No nightmares, then?”

Abigail blinked. Did dragons dream during hibernation? “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Hm.”

After tea, Regina often engaged her in a witch’s duel. Both for leisure and for practice. Inside and out, hither and yon, elemental conjures, potions, illusions, animal summonings, improvised weaponry—anything went. Whoever caught the raven first won the match.

Regina was graceful, quick, and cunning.

But Abigail knew Diablo better than she.

* * *

The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

“Kathryn?” she called as she removed her coat.

No answer.

“Jax?”

Not even a hint of movement.

The house was dark save the faint glow of light coming from the top of the stairs.

“Babe?!”

She ran up the stairs, heart beating louder, breaths becoming heavier, and threw open the door.

Nothing.

There was nothing.

Completely pitch-black _nothing_.

Void.

Nothing.

Emptiness.

Nothing.

Nowhere.

No one.

Abandoned.

Alone.

Cold.

Dread.

Dead.

Wait.

No.

Not.

Two large, glowing green eyes.

A wicked smile with many, _many_ long, sharp teeth.

 _Disgusting_.

Sylvia awoke with a start.

Again.


End file.
